The fella over there with the hella good hair

@Viggo or @Andrus maybe?

An ermine fled from behind a shrub as Ptarmigan drew near, but the Alpha female was too sore to give chase. She would be slow on her feet for some time to come. It was a poor time for it, for truly she should have been asserting her new claim over the Spine pack with vigour now that they knew their former queen had been murdered and her replacement dethroned, but she was unable. Any one of them could bring tooth to her hide, and she would be helpless... Except for her friends.

Viggo and Andrus had been consumed with their own duties in the time between Ptarmigan's challenge and her healing enough to walk around actively. What exactly they had been doing, the Endore could not have known, but part of her simply didn't care. They were keeping busy and that was what mattered.

The Endore sat down heavily next to the abandoned shrub, staring off after the ermine with an irritated tweak of her brow. “Dumb bitch,” she voiced aloud, referring to Cara. Never before had Ptarmigan seen blood drawn in a rank dispute, but the pale woman had gone for her chest and neck over and over, leaving welts and slashes wherever she went. It was a wonder Ptarmigan had held on in that battle long enough to best the white female's pride—by all rights, she should have collapsed. It was shameful, she thought.

Now, each wound was a puckered scab, and any strenuous activity could cause them to break open and bleed anew, rendering Ptarmigan unable to do more than pace the valley and wait for better days.

o well sure i s'pose :)

Whenever the old bear was not prowling the lands, stalking his new packmates and silently reminding them he was always there in the footsteps, he was usually somewhere near Ptarmigan. Not there all cuddly and friendly like Viggo--God no. Andrus had never snuggled a single second of his life. He couldn't even remember his mother being that motherly. No, the man kept his distance; usually resting a few yards away or slightly further. Close enough that he could hear anyone approaching his employer or if she called for him, but not close enough that they could regularly do things like.. have friendly conversations *shudder*

That was the space Andrus was returning to when his ears picked up on Ptarmigan's voice uttering some expletive at something or other. His eyes narrowed out of curiosity, but he did not quicken his pace. He knew whatever had inspired those words were not in the form of an immediate threat, so when he strode into her presence, it was not with concern that he looked to the dark woman. It was... well, really not with much of anything--as usual.

Andrus surveyed the area swiftly with his nose, eyes and ears. Finding nothing but the scent of an ermine who, judging by scent, had recently vacated the area, he jumped to the only conclusion he could. "You want me to go get it for you?" the bear said flatly, casting his iron grey eyes to her face.

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She twisted her head around to see Andrus as he came near, though the movement tweaked a nerve in her spine and she winced. “Nah,” she said dismissively, looking again at the place where the ermine had disappeared. “I'm not hungry, just wish I could have chased it for fun is all.” But she couldn't chase much of anything, not for a while. The wounds were too fresh.

Not wishing to dwell any longer on her injuries or the fight, she surveyed Andrus, looking for an opening with which to probe his thoughts. As always, the mercenary provided none, so she had to force herself into the conversation. “Found anything interesting here?” she asked aloud, sweepingly referring to the entire forest they had inherited. She hadn't had much energy for exploration so, for the time being, Viggo and Andrus were her eyes and ears.

Andrus eyed her as she explained her fascination with the ermine. Apparently chasing it was what some would consider "fun". Andrus didn't really get why that would be, but he personally hadn't had "fun" since he was a child. And even that he couldn't remember, so he probably would have denied it if asked. Not wanting to get into all of that, he responded with a low grunt, which was how he usually communicated anyway.

"Not particularly," the Cannelle said when she posed her next question, "Your flock seems discontented, but not enough to speak up except in whispers amongst themselves." She may have been asking about the land they now lived in, but work always came first to the hulking bear of a wolf.

"They have given you no trouble," he said, turning to her with slightly narrowing eyes. It was partly a question, but also a restatement of expectation. There would be no one testing Ptarmigan's power while she was in this state. Once she was well again, they could try to best her unless it was not her will to allow it. Until then, he would not stand for anyone to bring harm upon her. Not when he remained under her employ.

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“None,” she confirmed, though she turned her head to look out into the trees as though unsettled, revealing her true unease. “They are sheep, they will not challenge me.” Sheep that were rebelling against their shepherd, of course, but only with snark and big talk. None of them were taking action except perhaps Cara, but Ptarmigan thought she'd already dealt with that particular problem.

At length, she stood up, motioning for Andrus to accompany here. “Let's see if we can flush out any ewes,” she said with a snicker, referring specifically to the wolves of Ouroboros and their passive Betas. The mercenary followed, obedient as ever, and when she turned to him, she was met with his trademark flavourless expression. She grinned broadly at him, then began to lead the way (slowly) toward the territory's heart, where she hoped they might find some native to pester.